


Relief

by IAmWhelmed



Series: My First and Last Love [2]
Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19759288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed/pseuds/IAmWhelmed
Summary: Damian realizes exactly what Jon means to him.





	Relief

Relief was quiet, like an exhale that leaves your bones as thin as paper and your heart thumping like wire and your chest lighter.

Relief was finding Titus after he hadn't seen him all day, tucked under his bed with a chewing bone next to his sleeping face. It was hearing the Batmobile racing into cave after a long patrol when he'd been benched with a sprained leg. Relief was crashing into bed after a workout session that lasted well into the morning.

Relief came after panic, panic that struck the heart like piercing wood and made his skin cold, panic that made it hard to breathe, because there was only red and no clue, no blue at all-- _oh god, where was the blue_. Panic made him frantically dig through rubble and pray that he'd gotten rid of the last of the kryptonite, that he wasn't wrong to trust that his dad had come through for the kyrptonians-- for him. Panic made him curse Lex Luthor with every fiber, made him consider killing despite the stacked cons because the cons would be worth revenge-- not usually, not all the time, not like they used to, but worth this one life. This one.

Panic was seeing Superman's eased smile gone, watching him lift house-sized chunks of rubble off the ground despite how damn _weak_ he knew he was. Panic was watching his own father stand helplessly to the side, surrounded by turned-over cars, dust, fire, debris; it was his father unusually, indefensively processing his best friend going through the unimaginable. It was meeting his father's eyes and falling to his skinned knees and struggling to make the world stop spinning, make everyone shut up, _make it all go away, make him come back_.

Relief may never come. Panic fades to grief, and it's grief that eventually turns to acceptance, but it's relief that never comes; relief follows when you find what you have lost, and there was nothing to be found here. Relief. That breath of fresh air that smells like farm grass, that light air that sweeps you off your feet, and instead your bones feel like weights tying you to the earth so you can't follow. Relief is something he should have found when Batman wrapped his arms around him and pulled him under the protection of his cape, like disappearing in a void of black, like the world didn't exist, but he didn't. The relief was his father's. His youngest was still alive, still pounding at his chest and screaming, still there between his arms and breathing.

He could still hear rubble shifting and feel the ground shaking as dollops of cement went flying to the earth. If he closed his eyes he could imagine that the trembles were in broken highways and not under his skin. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine relief.

"Batman! Over here! Quick!"

"Is he breathing?"

There was so much love in that sigh, the kind that emanated through your chest and branched to every limb, the love of a father. "Yes. Might have his first concussion, but he should be okay. I can hear his heartbeat."

Alarm was quick feet but not quick enough, not nearly quick enough, urging his legs to move faster because red matched the blue, finally; it was barreling into Superman and taking fistfulls of jeans and jacket, burying his forehead in dirty cotton.

Relief was laughing under his breath and letting out the dead used and stale air as he smiled. Relief was hearing a slow and steady heartbeat and thinking about how funny it was that it moved the way _he_ felt. Slow, simple, gentle. Relief was seeing blue eyes peeking at him through messy raven bangs, but it was also discerning that comfort from fondness.


End file.
